


Lacing

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Corsetry, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’ll have to come off,” Ren says, staring at it intently. “It could be contaminated.” </p><p>They both know that’s not true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the following prompt at tfa_kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1841.html?thread=2255153#cmt2255153):
>
>> Kylo Ren laces Hux into a corset (against his will or not, though anon would prefer Hux being noncompliant) and admires his figure.
>> 
>> Then they fuck.
>> 
>> No established relationships pls.

The first blaster bolt hits Hux in the knee, but it doesn’t fell him. He’s already drawn his own blaster and shot back by the time the second bolt takes him in the shoulder, under the greatcoat, something—blood?—splattering on his face. Hux grimaces, but aims expertly, sighting the would-be assassin. Steeling himself, he takes the next clear shot. He’s rewarded with the satisfying thud of a warm body in snow.

“Move out!” He barks at the two troopers escorting himself and Kylo Ren back to the base. “He could have had help.”

The troopers obediently trundle off into the snow, disappearing into the line of trees almost immediately.

“Are you alright?” Ren asks, inclining his helmed head.

“What do you care?” Hux sneers. He glances down to survey the damage. His knee and shoulder feel, surprisingly, fine; instead of the expected blood and gore, they’re covered in a strange kind of purple oil. He sniffs at the sample on his shoulder experimentally, and suddenly the world goes white.

He doesn’t exactly fall unconscious. Rather, all he can perceive is white noise with every cell in his body. His eyes can’t focus against the blinding, undulating white; his skin feels like it’s crackling; he can’t smell anything; his tongue feels like it’s too big for his mouth; and he hears what sounds like a chorus of screaming voices. Distantly, he’s aware of motion—of his body falling, of someone catching it, of being bundled into the base, of laying flat—but it’s like his connection to his body has been totally cut off and replaced with these _hideous_ sensations. 

He tries to fight it as best he can—he puts up some resistance, but it only works for a moment, and then the overwhelming pain seems to intensify, if possible. He falters and screams as his head splits open, and then—

“Just as I thought,” Ren intones.

Hux stares at a black expanse uncomprehendingly for a few minutes before it resolves into the ceiling of his quarters. He’s lying down, he’s covered in sweat, and his trousers are missing. 

“What in the _hell_ are you doing?” Hux demands, rising to his elbows. Ren is kneeling beside his bed, his helmet off and his visage as grim as ever. Hux clicks his tongue in disgust; he hates to see Ren’s bare face. It implies trust and intimacy between them in a way that infuriates him. 

Ren holds up his hands, as if to defend himself. “Whatever this substance is, it burns through inorganic material and, apparently, gives sentient lifeforms debilitating hallucinations. I can only presume the hallucinations eventually cause death.”

Hux glances down to his jacket—Ren has apparently already removed his greatcoat—to see where the oil is slowly burning, like acid, through the black fabric. “What about the hallucinations?”

“I stopped them.” 

“You’ve been in my head?” Hux demands, incredulous. He reaches for his mental barriers—and they’re gone. 

“Would you rather be dead, General?” 

Hux works his jaw and glances away from Ren. “Point taken,” he says, instead of apologizing. He strips off his jacket, flinging it across the room as it slowly consumes itself, and does the same thing to his shirt.

Ren’s breathing hitches.

 _Shit_. He’d forgotten about the waist trainer.

It’s black against his pale skin, and it suddenly seems blacker as he looks down at it, like it’s sucking all of the light out of the room. “It’s for my back,” he says, defensively. And that’s true.

 _This_ one is.

“You have more,” Ren murmurs, more to himself than to Hux. Hux doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to respond. The silence lays between them thickly, until Ren reaches out and places his gloved hand delicately over the stomach of the waist cincher. Hux’s stomach contracts.

“It’ll have to come off,” Ren says, staring at it intently. “It could be contaminated.” 

They both know that’s not true—the acid barely made it onto Hux’s shirt. 

After a heartbeat, Hux sits up and reaches for the closures. He squeezes them together a hair to make them disengage; the pressure makes his breath catch. He hands it to Ren, face burning.

Ren stares at it intently, expression unreadable. “I’ll get you another,” he says, finally, and stands.

Hux stays where he is as Ren unerringly seeks out where he hides his little collection—he probably plucked the location out of Hux’s head. He feels disoriented, and not just from the assassination attempt. There’s no protocol for this, no etiquette. They’re dangerously off-script, but Hux can’t bring himself to stop.

Ren returns to loom over Hux, holding another corset. By the careless way Ren is holding it, he’s clearly just grabbed one at random, but it’s one of Hux’s favorites—an underbust corset in matte black fabric, sturdy enough to withstand plenty of wear and tear, but old-fashioned enough to be laced and therefore unsuitable for day wear. 

“Can you stand?” Ren asks.

Hux nods, subdued, and stands up, slowly. He steps into the circle of Ren’s personal space and turns, presenting his back to him against all instinct. He interlocks his fingers and rests them at the base of his neck. He thinks, strangely, of what it would be like to have long hair, to be able to present his neck to Ren. His cock stirs at the thought.

Ren reaches around him and lays the corset against his skin. Hux shivers in pleasure at the familiar touch of the garment. Ren splays his hand on Hux’s stomach, to keep the corset in place for a moment, and his hand feels like a brand through the material. When Ren yanks on the lacing, Hux gasps, but does not falter.

Ren is clearly unfamiliar with lacing up corsetry. He’s still wearing his gloves, which makes him even slower. But that means Hux can feel everything he’s doing, tugging and yanking, arranging his torso to his liking. As Ren reaches the small of his back, Hux feels the telltale folding of skin that indicates he’s laced in a little too tight. His cock throbs, and he gasps for a breath he can no longer fully take. 

Ren touches him gently on the hips, over the corset. It feels aggressively intimate. Ren’s hands roam over the corset freely, and Hux groans at the sensation.

“I want to see you,” Ren says. He revolves around Hux, hands leaving his waist at the last possible second. He sits down on the bed, staring up at Hux hungrily.

There’s a long moment that feels like it stretches out into eternity, interrupted only by Hux’s heart threatening to pound out of his chest. This is the moment—this is the chance to correct gravity, to command Ren to pleasure him or even get dressed, leaving Ren wanting in his own bed.

Instead, Hux closes his eyes, braces himself, and climbs onto Ren.

His knees find purchase on the bed on either side of Ren’s thighs. He fists a hand in his cloak and the other in his hair, yanking his head back to kiss him, finally, as hard as he can. The sensation of so much heavy fabric against his bare flesh is overwhelming. His breathing is strained.

Ren whines into his mouth for a brief moment before his lips move on, onto his neck, his chest, tonguing a nipple thickly. Hux groans. His gloved hands are all over him, running over his bare back, over the corset, and along the backs of his thighs. The leather of the gloves is thick and rough and _perfect_ against Hux’s skin. He can feel goosebumps in their wake. Ren touches him, mouthes him like he’s trying to devour him, extract the air from his lungs, burrow inside him. Hux glances down, and sees that Ren’s eyes are gently shut, as if against the radiance of his flushed skin. 

The vision of the most powerful man in the galaxy worshipping his body is intoxicating.

He rocks his hips forward, against Ren’s stomach, and then backwards, skimming the curve of his ass against the straining bulge in Ren’s leggings. Ren grunts against him, pressing his cheek to Hux’s naked chest and pulling him even closer by the tops of his thighs.

His head is swimming and he’s hard. He feels exalted, desired, all the more so for such naked lust coming from such an unexpected quarter. Has Ren been thinking about this? Has he been dreaming about this, panting after it at night with his cock in hand?

The idea makes his own cock ache, painfully. He grinds down, more forcefully this time, on Ren’s erection, and Ren gasps into his mouth. The curve of his cock against Hux’s ass feels like mathematical perfection and a sudden desire, a sudden need, to have Ren in him hits him like a wave. He opens his mouth to tell Ren this, but Ren is already there, in his mind.

“Where is it?” Ren whispers into Hux’s ear, pressing the sides of their heads together. His breath is hot—Hux feels like it’s burning him, scalding him, scarring him, wherever it touches him. 

“Side console.” Hux jerks his chin in the console’s general vicinity. Ren reaches out an arm and, for half a moment, Hux thinks, absurdly, he’s going to summon the lubricant with the Force, but he leans instead. The stretch shifts their position for a moment, enough for the friction to go to Hux’s already swimming head. 

With the bottle in hand, Ren removes the glove from his right hand with his teeth. Hux is struck with the desire to do that to Ren, to strip him bare with nothing but his teeth. The thought makes him grind into Ren’s lap, eliciting a whine. 

One of Ren’s gloved fingers hooks on the waistband of Hux’s pants. Hux wonders how to efficiently maneuver out of them without the needless sacrifice of getting off of Ren, but Ren answers that question for him by ripping them off, leaving Hux naked but for the underbust corset clinging to his waist too tightly. The relatively cool air is a shock on his skin. Freed from its constraints, the head of his rosy cock brushes against the rough fabric of Ren’s tunic. Hux whines at the contact.

There’s a sudden squelching sound as Ren applies the lubricant to his hand behind Hux’s back, and his cold, wet fingers appear at the top of Hux’s left thigh, pressing into the soft flesh there. Hux braces his hands on Ren’s shoulders and lifts his hips up enough to allow him access.

He grunts when Ren enters him with one finger. The muscles of his thighs begin to burn with the effort of keeping himself at this angle, but he ignores the pain as Ren adds a second finger. But when Ren adds a third, he allows himself to drop, fucking himself back onto Ren’s wet fingers. Ren hisses and crooks his fingers determinedly, brushing his prostate, and Hux tries not to whimper as his cock pulses, arching firmly against Ren. He could come from this, Ren’s long fingers pushing insistently into him. But he resists the urge to meet Ren’s fingers thrust for thrust. 

“Stop,” Hux breathes, kissing Ren and pulling back enough to look him in the eye. Ren is staring at him like he’s the only thing in the galaxy worth looking at. Hux swallows drily. “Stop, I’m ready.”

Ren groans, straining his neck to mouth at Hux’s jawline. He pulls his fingers out of Hux slowly, slowly enough that Hux hisses as the fullness of them recedes. Ren slides his hand over the globes of Hux’s ass—both his hands, Hux realizes, as Ren’s still gloved left hand slides up his right thigh. The texture of the leather makes his cock pulse, leaking onto Ren’s tunic. 

Ren kisses him, pulling Hux to him by his waist, and leans back. They slowly tip over, spilling onto the narrow bed. Hux braces his hands on the bed, bracketing Ren’s face. Ren’s eyes are hungry and glazed with lust, almost disoriented with it. Hux can feel how hard Ren is through the thick layers of clothing between them, and his own cock responds in kind, leaking onto Ren’s tunic. But before he can do anything about it, Ren flips them over in one powerful movement.

Hux winces in anticipated pain as his back hits the mattress. He opens his eyes to find his entire world composed of Ren’s great, pale face and the blackness of Ren’s garments, his cloak spread around them like an all-enveloping night. Hux strains upwards to kiss him, biting his lower lip. Ren groans and pulls away, almost getting to his knees.

Hux takes the chance to catch as much of his breath as he can, but his quarters suddenly seem full of only Ren’s hot breath and the heavy scent of their mingled desire. There’s a metallic clink and the rustle of fabric, and then Ren is back on top of him, his face serious. 

He strokes his ungloved hand down Hux’s chest, down the corset, and down his cock. Hux arches into the touch, and it’s just the right angle. He feels the head of Ren’s cock against his hole, and then Ren breaches him. 

Hux grunts in discomfort—Ren is bigger than he anticipated. Ren leans down and kisses his neck, but doesn’t stop moving. He presses forward slowly, maddeningly but necessarily slowly, until—

Hux gasps. Ren half-snarls against Hux’s neck, but, infuriatingly, doesn’t move. Hux takes as much of a breath as he can, the corset digging into his ribs, and then pulls on Ren’s hair, _hard._

Ren unleashes himself, slamming into Hux so hard that Hux, briefly, chokes on his own spit, making him gasp for a breath he can’t fully take. He’s relentless and selfish, missing Hux’s prostate more often than he hits it, but Hux feels so full that it aches. It feels so good.

Hux yelps when Ren rises on his knees slightly. His legs automatically wrap themselves around Ren’s hips, tangling in tunic and cloak. His hips are tilted upwards. It’s a difficult angle. Precome drips off his cock and pools down his belly, soaking into the corset. It’s almost impossible to do anything other than just let Ren pound into him and ride the overwhelming sensation. But the panting whine he elicits from Ren when he manages to meet one of his thrusts makes him redouble his efforts. 

He’s gasping for breath, stars at the edge of his vision. When Ren kisses him again, open-mouthed, he feels like he’s drowning. He’s filled with Ren, surrounded by Ren—it’s overwhelming, but he wants more. He wants to take everything he can from Ren, everything Ren is willing to give. When he clenches purposefully around Ren’s cock, Ren whines into his mouth and breaks the kiss to burrow his brow in Hux’s chest, still thrusting furiously into him. 

Ren comes without warning—there’s just the sudden, disorienting absence of his panting noises and then Hux suddenly feels _fuller_ , wetter. He rides Ren’s orgasm as best he can as Ren pumps his seed into him. Ren gives a great sigh and withdraws, letting Hux’s hips fall to the bed.

Hux wants to scream—it’s not enough, even as Ren’s retreating cock brushes against his prostate and sets his nerves on fire, he’s not _done_. Suddenly, he feels Ren’s hair flickering over his sweaty thigh, and looks down to see Ren nuzzling his inner thigh. He reaches down and buries a hand in Ren’s hair just as Ren’s panting mouth descends on his dripping, oversensitive cock.

Ren’s tongue swirls once around the head of his cock and Hux comes, flooding the wet heat of his mouth, his back arching off the thin mattress as if he’s been electrocuted. 

He’s somewhere else for a moment, but the sound of Ren choking a little on his seed brings him back, his drained cock pulsing weakly at the noise. He tries to sigh, but the corset is still tied too tightly around him. As if on cue, Ren recedes and reappears on Hux’s left side. Hux rolls over sluggishly and shivers at the sensation of Ren’s seed shifting deep inside him. Ren quickly unlaces the corset, as if he’s learned how to do it properly in the last thirty minutes via sexual osmosis. He takes in a deep, gulping breath, feeling his ribs expand properly, and rolls onto his back, almost nestling into Ren.

The corset will need a very thorough and very discreet washing, but Hux doesn’t care. He’s flush with victory, the one thing he’d never considered having in the palm of his hand. Even now, Ren can’t stop touching him, nosing his ear, hand (still gloved, astonishingly) splayed over his stomach. 

He nips, quickly, at the corner of Ren’s mouth, and Ren makes a small, helpless noise, as if he can’t help but respond to Hux even so sated, even so obviously exhausted. Hux smiles indulgently.

With this weapon in hand, what an Empire he will build.

**Author's Note:**

> [kylostahp drew an amazing piece of fanart inspired by this fic](http://kylostahp.tumblr.com/post/139817714532/he-steps-into-the-circle-of-rens-personal-space). By its sheer perfection, I die. <3


End file.
